


As Custom Dictates

by DictionaryWrites



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Christmas fic for the lovely slytherliz on Tumblr. Bagginshield and mistletoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Custom Dictates

“I don’t understand why you need it. It’s a weed.” Thorin speaks bluntly, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches the hobbit awkwardly and not-gracefully-at-all make his way up the trunk. Hobbits are not really  _made_  for climbing trees, and despite his burglarizing past Bilbo is not tremendously skilled at it himself.

But he  _is_  making progress, and slowly he gets a little higher, bare feet touching on snow-covered branches, but he barely even feels it through the hair and thick skin. Thorin winces down below.

“It’s  _more_  than a weed, Thorin Oakenshield!” comes Bilbo’s retort, and he drags himself  _further_  up the bark. His hands are red from grasping at the cold wood, but it matters little: he’s only got another half a metre to climb. He does so, pulling himself slightly out over the branch. “It’s mistletoe.”

“What is it  _for_?” Bilbo laughs a little despite himself: he still feels a sort of satisfaction when he knows something Thorin does not, even after all their years together. He knows that Thorin is scowling beneath him without looking in the dwarf’s direction.

“You’ll see!” He climbs out over the branch, carefully adjusting the spread of his weight to ensure he doesn’t break the branch, and his hand closes around a thatch of the stuff; he ends up with a ball about the size of his head.  _Perfect_. “Ah, you  _see_! I’ve got it!” The branch creaks beneath him. “I’ve-”

The branch breaks.

Bilbo hollers as he falls into the water below, and the stream is completely _freezing_ against his skin as he gasps and tries to make his way to the bank. Thorin’s arm is suddenly there and Bilbo  _desperately_  grasps for his lover’s hand, shuddering for the cold as Thorin pulls him from the icy grip of the running water in one strong movement.

“I’ve got it.” Bilbo says again, weakly this time, and Thorin  _tuts_  at him as he carries Bilbo over the fields and back towards the house.

“Are hobbits unfamiliar with the concept of ladders?” Thorin asks grimly, and Bilbo chuckles a little.

“We don’t like climbing, my dear dwarf.”

“And yet you were ten feet up a tree.” Ah. Yes. So he was.

Bilbo offers a sheepish smile that does little to dissuade Thorin’s irritation.

—-

He is pressed against Thorin’s chest when the dwarf asks again, pressed tight against the other’s flesh. Both of them are quite nude for the sake of further body heat to be shared, and they are comfortably in bed below at least three blankets.

“But what is it  _for_?” Bilbo laughs a little, and then he grasps blindly for a piece of the mistletoe on the bedside table, holding it above their heads. A bit of the water clinging to the plant drips onto Thorin’s nose, and Bilbo does his best to hold back his chuckles as Thorin glares at him.

“Now you have to kiss me.” Bilbo says. Thorin’s brow furrows. “It’s winter custom. Mistletoe above one’s head means you have to kiss whoever is beneath it with you.”

“I would have kissed you regardless.”

“I know.” Thorin’s lips twitch, and then he smiles, turning his head away from Bilbo’s for a moment and wiping the wetness from his nose. “Won’t you kiss me?”

“If custom dictates I  _must_.” Thorin says in a faux-grumble, and Bilbo chuckles against his neck before Thorin catches him in a kiss.


End file.
